


Tell Me

by autumnsxxangel



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bond is a time lord, Eventual Romance, M/M, Q is nosy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:19:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnsxxangel/pseuds/autumnsxxangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The Bond he met as R was classically handsome.  He was dark and brooding with Romanesque features and dark brown hair styled with a slight wave."</p>
<p>"The Bond he met as Q was anything but."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Not beta-ed or brit-picked.
> 
> This story has been bouncing around in my head for months now. Inspired by the interview with Sam Mendes where he said Bond was a TIme Lord

There was something to be said about Q’s memory.  It wasn’t quite eidetic, but it came pretty close.  Details observed were etched in forever and since he never forgot, it presented James Bond as a bit of a dilemma. 

Before Q became Quartermaster, he had only met 007 once and he didn’t so much meet him as much as catch a glimpse of him as the agent came into Q branch to be debriefed.  Back then, Q had been new and shiny and just getting use to the letter that replaced his name.  Still, he was hardly likely to forget the face of the most infamous agent of the MI-6

The Bond he met as R was classically handsome.  He was dark and brooding with Romanesque features and dark brown hair styled with a slight wave.  He had warm chocolate eyes reminiscent of quicksand, slowing pulling down until the only option was to drown.  His voice, not that R heard too much of it, was smooth and silky, whispering tantalizing promises and casting illusions of seduction and pleasure.  Even his presence was different, holding a subtle magnetism that allowed him to melt into a room or commanding the attention of an entire crowd on a whim.  This Bond was suave and sophisticated, a gentleman’s gentleman that just so happened to have a license to kill.

The Bond he met as Q was anything but.

The Bond he met was old and broken, cold and made of harshly jagged edges.  He was pale where he should be dark and dark where he should be light.  His blond hair was blended with white and cropped almost military short which emphasized his slightly unfortunate ears.  The lines on his face told of history that haunted him even though he was so adept at hiding it.  He was considerably shorter than the other Bond and his voice was low and gravely, attractive enough by its own accord, but rough where it should be smooth.  The only thing that was irrefutably beautiful about him was his eyes, an unrelenting crystal blue, sharper than broken glass and just as reflective.  They pierced and dug, but they left a choice. They warned against coming too close because this Bond had seen too much, killed too many and the stain was so deep he couldn’t even begin to scrub himself clean.

His attraction didn’t come from easy charm, but rather the promise of danger and the shadow of death that followed him around.  This Bond seduced, not by compliments, but by challenges, dares flashing across his wintry eyes.  He was barely handsome, but he was the man mothers warned against and a taste of sin’s very core.  There was still an echo of suaveness and sophistication, he still knew how to flirt and dance and seduce in all the traditional senses, but wasn’t what defined him.  No.  This Bond was the embodiment of his license to kill that happened to wear the skin of a gentleman with practiced ease. 

~~

It was right after their first meeting that Q actually pulled up Bond’s file.  He had been meaning to do it for a while, but the relocation of MI-6 had pushed it down the list of things he needed to do.  Besides, M had vouched for the agent completely and who was Q to protest. 

It took no more than a few minutes for Q to infiltrate the database and pull up the sealed files attached to Bond’s name.  He brushed away the complex security measures like spider webs, noting to himself to work on the firewalls at a later date.  Another time he would have scoffed in disgust at how easily he had broken through, but at the moment he was too preoccupied trying to read the whole file at once.

The first thing that came up was Bond’s picture staring out at him coolly and Q quickly pulled up a few tabs to cover up the piercing blue eyes.  Even in a photo, there was something unnerving about them, something dark and acute that he couldn’t quite place. 

The files were simple enough.  The foremost contained his personal information: DOB, height, weight, hair color, eye color, etc.  A few had information about his childhood, but for the most part the documents were mission reports and psychological assessments on 007, each one growing increasingly bleak.  Q skimmed through a few of them and nearly balked at the recollections of torture outlined vividly. 

He became so engrossed learning about the notorious agent he nearly forgot what his original purpose was.  It wasn’t until Q accidently clicked on a button that brought up Bond’s career history that he snapped back to him task. 

_Date of hire: 1992_

_00-_ _Status achieved: 2001_

With a frown Q typed in a few commands trying to find the 007 that came before Bond.  Agents were killed in the line of duty and replaced all the time.  Already 003 was reassigned to a brunette with a wicked smirk and 008 was given to a petite Asian with deceivingly innocent eyes since Q had taken up the post of Quartermaster.  Though he had been hired after Bond received his 00 – status, it was always possible that he caught sight of the previous 007 years ago and everyone was still in the habit of addressing him by his old title.  He distinctively remembered hearing the old Q call the brunet ‘Bond’, but names were sometimes paired with statuses and past on depending on the notoriety attached. 

And yet, the deeper Q dug, the less he found.  There had been no previous 007 before Bond which was odd by its own account, if not straight out impossible.  00-statuses were always filled.  Nonetheless, there was nothing suspicious or forged about the documentation, no bread crumbs of forgotten information that Q could use to recreate erased files.  He attacked it at every angle he could think of, but it was all above board and for some reason that bothered Q.  There was something off.  He could feel it in the strange twinge in his stomach.  

Still, with the lack of evidence there was no reason for him to continue, not with the pile of requisition forms balanced at the edge of his desk waiting to be signed, so he started exiting out of the files and reapplying the firewalls.  By default his new coding made it notably harder to hack into.  It wasn’t until Q was nearly done that he noticed a small pop up window in the corner of his screen.  It had been hidden beneath everything else. 

He enlarged it and an odd circular symbol filled the monitor.  Inside the circle was a design of intersecting lines and overlaying rings which was simultaneously simple and complicated.  Q stared at it for a few seconds and the feeling of nostalgia that suddenly hit him, causing him to frown in confusion. It was like nothing he had seen before.  He ran it through the system, but it didn’t match any of the languages in the database, past or present, nor any type of secret code that the MI-6, CIA, or Mosshad knew of. 

Q would have continued researching, but more pressing matters arose (namely 007 blowing up a petrol station in Bosnia).  He moved to exit the screen, but hesitated last minute.  Instead he printed off a few copies, rushing to stuff them in his bag and leaving one on his keyboard before walking out of his office and asking the entire room: “Where the _hell_ is 007?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> History is forgotten for a reason, but Q has never been one to follow rules.

 

For a while the symbol was pushed to the back of Q’s mind and subsequently forgotten.  He had an entire department to rebuild, underlings to take care of, and suicidal agents to keep alive (though to be fair most of them weren’t suicidal as much as placed in unfortunate situations.  007, on the other hand, seemed to take pleasure in finding a new way to possibly die each week).  Paperwork was piling on his desk and he was just getting used to playing politics.  There were prototypes that needed to be tested, missions that needed to be outfitted for, and the never ending fight for a larger budget that was taking a greater deal of Q’s time than he liked. 

Then, Q listened to Bond die.

The agent was fading fast, sharp, pained breaths being drawn in a place Q had no camera access to.  There was blood, there had to be with the way Bond grunted whenever he moved the slightest.  Emergency response was at least half an hour away. 

Somewhere at the edge of his mind, Q remembered talking to the dying agent, urging him to stay alive in a calm, steady tone.  And somewhere, he remembered a deep chuckle in response.

“Q,” Bond said and the futility of the situation suddenly hit the Quartermaster with enough force to cause his breathing to stutter. 

“You idiot,” Q hissed, gripping the table so tightly his knuckles were white.  Across the room a monitor showed a blue dot speeding through the streets of Mumbai towards a steadily blinking red dot.  It wasn’t going to make it.  “When you come back I am going to kill you myself for all the stress you put me through.”

“Promises,” was the last thing he heard Bond say before the comm fell eerily silent.  The red dot disappeared from the screen.  Around him, everyone jumped into action, shouting about extractions and implementing Plan Omega.  Q went to work as well, instinctively typing in the commands, but as his fingers moved, the only thing in his mind was the echo of Bond’s last word, strained from the impending death, but certain like Bond knew he was coming back.  And though it was improbable there was a little part of Q that felt reassured because that part believed whatever Bond was trying to tell him with that little word.

Later, when Q finally came out of his office for a tea break after a five hour hacking stint, Tanner came up to him and clasped him on the back.  “Don’t worry,” he said, reaching for the half empty coffee pot.  Q just blinked at him, his mind moving him through the familiar motions of making tea.  “This is Bond.  Give him a few weeks and he’ll be knocking on our doors again, ready to shoot up another embassy.”

Q merely nodded then, but in retrospect he supposed he should have noticed how unaffected the administration was.  They pushed on as though Bond was on nothing more than an unannounced vacation.  No body was recovered, but M didn’t seem bother by the fact.  Instead, he continued assigning missions, working around the empty position with no mention of replacing 007 at all.

 

* * *

 

It was exactly two weeks to the minute when Bond somehow materialized in MI-6 again.  Q heard it first from Moneypenny who came down bearing paperwork and a small smirk.

“Looks like you can come out of your funk now, love,” she said, handing over the files.  Q took the first one on the pile and flipped through it.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said absently.  All these forms and legalities were going to be the death of him.

“I’m talking about Bond.  He’s back,”

“Mmm, that’s nice.”  It took another five seconds and a second file for the words to sink in.  “I-what?” Q asked, head snapping up.  He caught Eve’s knowing smile and scowled in return.  “I don’t appreciate your implications, Moneypenny.”

“I’m not implying anything,” she said innocently.  “I’m merely observing correlations.”

Q snorted and threw a pen at her.  She dodged it easily, quirking a brow at him.  “If you’re going to be smart with me, you should leave before I decide to deactivate your access card.”

Eve laughed, already heading to the door.  “If this is your happy face, I would love to see your ecstatic one.” 

Exactly one hour, twelve minutes, and forty six seconds later (not that Q was counting), Bond strolled into Q Branch as though it was any other day. 

“Did you miss me?” Bond asked, taking the opened door as an invitation and entering Q’s office.

“Not horribly,” Q replied, barely looking up from his typing. 

“Just a little then?” Bond smirked and Q couldn’t help but stop to glance up at the agent.  He looked incredibly well put together for an agent that was presumed dead.  Immaculately dressed, as usual, there was no sign of injury Q could see.  It was impossible to what was beneath the closing, but Bond’s movements were relaxed and smooth, not the strained fluidity of when he was trying to hide his pain.

“Did you come here for a reason or did you come to distract me from working?” Q said with a frown.  To think he had even been a little worried for the arrogant arse.  The smirk only deepened and Bond closed the door under Q’s disapproving glare.

“So you find me distracting?” Bond said, edging around the desk.

“No, I find you tedious,” Q said shortly, turning his attention back to the computer screen.  A few seconds later, the scent of Bond’s expensive cologne wafted over Q and he looked up only to find his fingers tantalizingly close to Bond’s hip where is leaned against the desk and eyes the color of ice peering down at him in amusement.  Q swallowed, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the way Bond leaned just a bit closer.

“Is that your way of saying you’re fond of me?” Bond asked.

“As fond as I would be if you were a gnat,” Q snapped quickly, trying to keep his composure. 

It was always easier to handle Bond from a distance.  From a distance, he was just an intriguing character to look at and talk to, someone who could easily be ignored though perhaps not so easily forgotten.  Up close, however, was a different matter all together.  Up close he was pure masculinity and pheromones, not handsome, but dominating with the feral edge barely contained by the sharp edges of his pressed suits.  It was that power that had most of MI-6 jumping to attention when they saw him and one that Q was trying not to let get to him.  He was the head of Q Branch, not one of the little cogs in the machine. 

“Then very fond indeed,” Bond said, inclining his head slightly.

Q scowled and pushed away from the desk.  The cologne was beginning to make him feel a little heady, which was most likely because of how pungent it was and nothing to do with…well, other things.  “You should get your ears cleaned.”

“You’re quite English, aren’t you, Q,” Bond chuckled.  “You can never say what you truly mean.”

Q stared at him for a full minute, trying to process that statement.  He wasn’t sure if he should have felt insulted or pleased.  “Delusional,” he finally muttered, eyes narrowing.  “You are absolutely the most delusional man I have ever met and I have met many.”

“Though none as handsome.”

“None as narcissistic and arrogant,” Q corrected instantly.

There was something vaguely pleased about the small smile that unfurled on Bond’s lips and he leaned in a little closer, almost as to test Q’s reaction, before drawing back and straightening up.  Q shifted uncomfortably, reaching out to adjust the papers on his desk in order to distract himself.

“I don’t know,” Bond finally said, his tone light and easy.  “I get the feeling you might get pretty close.”

“I’m hardly delusional,” Q said, shifting some files over.  It occurred to him that he hadn’t actually seen the wooden surface of his desk for almost two weeks.   

“To work for MI-6?  You have to be, even if just a bit.  Besides, I was referring to _your_ sense or narcissism and arrogance because if you haven’t noticed, you…ah…” Abruptly, Bond trailed off into silence causing Q pause from his organizing and look up.

“I _what_ , Mr. Bond?” he asked, quirking a brow.  The agent didn’t answer, instead, staring intently at something on Q’s desk.  Puzzled, Q followed Bond’s gaze.  When he saw what caught Bond’s attention, Q froze..  Underneath the scattered mess of forms and files was a piece of paper with the circular symbol from Bond’s file printed on it.  He must have thrown paperwork on top of it sometime after a mission and promptly forgotten about it.

“Where did you get that?” Bond asked quietly.  There was something dangerous about the absolute stillness that overtook the agent, his breathing barely perceptible.  He sounded calm, politely curious even, but it was the type of sereneness that preceded the chaos of destruction.

“What?” Q said blankly.  For once he didn’t know what to say.  Even he had enough self preservation to realize that his snark would probably result in a physical injury at this moment. 

“Do I need to repeat myself?”  There was still no threat in Bond’s voice, but that was what made Q even more nervous. 

“I-I just found it…online somewhere,” Q said, trying to confident and dismissive even with the slight stammer.  It was safe to say he failed miserably.

“You shouldn’t lie, Quartermaster,” Bond said softly.  He reached over the pick up the paper and Q barely suppressed the urge to flinch.  There was a tense energy swirling just beneath Bond’s exterior and rolling off in a way that made Q’s skin prickle.  “You’re horrible at it.”

“Why would I lie?” Q asked and he mentally slammed his head against the desk for not being able to control his mouth.

Bond leveled his gaze on the young man, icy eyes carefully shuttered, but considering all the same as he slowly folded up the page.

“Some things,” he said slowly, stowing the paper in his interior jacket pocket, “are better left in the dark.”  Bond paused, then sighed.  Something shifted in his eyes and suddenly they seemed endlessly old, still pale, but indescribably tired.  “You would do well to remember that.”  And something definitely changed because even as he walked out of the office, his voice lingered in the area, echoing in a way that spoke of centuries, if not millenniums. 

 “I…what…?” Q muttered, blinking owlishly to get his brain to start up again.  He looked down at his hands only to realize they were shaking slightly.  That wouldn’t do.

Pulling his lips into a thin line, Q readjusted his glasses and turned to his computer.  His curiosity had been reawakened and the unspoken threat hovering above him only sparked a determination to find out what the symbol was.  He had never been one to turn away from danger and considering Bond’s reaction, it was obviously something important.  Really, to be the best Quartermaster he could, how could he _not_ look into it in order to better understand his agent?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Tell me what you guys think!


End file.
